Bree sat by the window staring out. Not that she could see anything of course, as the sun had yet to rise. After lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for half the night she’d risen from bed, dressed and then slumped into the chair, her hands wrapped around a beaker of watered wine.

She couldn’t stop her thoughts from churning. Thoughts of what could have been. Thoughts of what she might have done differently. Thoughts of how she could have avoided this whole situation in the first place.

Thoughts of Alex.

She bit her lip, biting back the tears that stung her eyes. She would not cry over him. She wouldn’t. Not again. Once she’d sought the privacy of her room in Dun Carrick that’s all she’d done. No more. He didn’t deserve it.

He’s a lying asshole just like the rest of them, she told herself savagely. He doesn’t deserve your tears.

But no matter how much she told herself that she couldn’t help longing for him. Longing for his touch, his smile, his nearness that made her feel so alive. She hated herself a little for that. Bree had never thought of herself as weak but Alexander Murray seemed to have the ability to turn her inside out.

As she sat there brooding the sky began to lighten, streamers of purple and gold poking over the rim of the valley and eventually the castle came to life around her. Workers appeared in the bailey below, guardsmen changed duty on the wall, serving women made their way to the well stifling yawns.

There was a knock on Bree’s door.

“Come in,” she called, not having the energy to get up and answer it.

Gretchen stepped into the room. “Ah, you’re up. Good. Ewan wants us to get an early start. Are you ready to come down for breakfast?”

Bree nodded. “Sure.”

She stood, brushed down her dress but Gretchen didn’t move. There were shadows under her eyes as though she hadn’t slept much either.

It must be hard on her, Bree thought. She’s lost her son all over again. Maybe I should tell her what a rat her son really is, that he doesn’t deserve her grief any more than he deserves mine. But what good would that do? It would only make Gretchen feel worse and I don’t want to upset her.

She reached out and squeezed Gretchen’s hand, giving her an encouraging smile.

Gretchen smiled back. “Looking forward to the off? With any luck we’ll find Irene and you’ll be home by this time tomorrow.” Her expression turned wistful. “Sometimes I wish I could go home again, just for a moment.”

“Why don’t you ask Irene to send you back for a while? You know, a kind of twenty-first century vacation?”

Gretchen laughed. “I don’t think it works that way. Irene has reasons for who she brings back and why. Reasons she doesn’t lightly share with the rest of us.”

“Oh? Then what reason did she have for bringing me back?” Bree asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. “My presence here has caused nothing but trouble.”

“That’s crap and you know it,” Gretchen replied. “You made Alex happy. You brought me my son back, if only for a short time, you brought joy to the clan.” She laid a hand on Bree’s arm. “You could stay you know. You have a place here. You’ve become a dear friend, one of the family. I know Jenna and Amy would dearly love to have you here—as would I.”

For a second Bree was tempted. She felt the same way about the Murrays. She had found a place here. What with helping Jenna with the children’s lessons and working with Gretchen in the kitchens, she felt at home here. Like she belonged. If things had turned out differently with Alex she would have accepted Gretchen’s offer in an instant. But things hadn’t turned out differently and now there was no way she could stay, not with the reminders of Alex all around her.

She shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Gretchen. I have to get back. You understand, don’t you?”

Gretchen studied her for a moment then let out a long sigh. “Of course I do. If I had lost Ewan I don’t know if I could have stayed either.” She smiled. “Come on then, let’s go and get some breakfast. No doubt that impatient husband of mine is saddling the horses as we speak.”

A short time later, after eating a hasty breakfast in the great hall, Bree found herself outside in the bailey, surrounded by Alex’s family. Eight horses were saddled and ready. It had been decided that David, Gretchen and Ewan would accompany her to find Irene along with four guardsmen. Most of Merith’s guards had been sent north to chase out Lord Donald and his marauders so it was deemed safe enough to send such a small company as their path took them a long way from where Lord Donald had last been spotted. Ewan had argued against Gretchen coming at all, citing the dangers of the road but he may as well have saved his breath.

Bree had watched in fascination as the two had argued about it at breakfast. Even through a heated discussion Bree could see the depth of the love between the pair. They had stood close, looking into each other’s eyes as they talked, each occasionally touching the other in unconscious displays of affection.

So it is possible, Bree had thought. Sometimes it does last.

Her heart had clenched as she thought of Alex and she’d forced her attention back to her food. Now, having won the argument with her husband, Gretchen was standing by Bree’s side.

Jenna hurried forward. There were tears in her eyes. “Ye take good care of yerself, my dear,” she whispered, pulling Bree into a tight embrace. “I shall miss ye dearly.” She stepped back and pressed something into Bree’s hand. It was the story book she’d first read to the children when she came here.

“I can’t take this,” Bree said.

“Ye can and ye will. Something to remember me by.”

Bree nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. “Goodbye, Jenna. I’ll miss you too.”

Next came Amy and her children, each one hugging Bree so tight she thought her ribs might crack. When they stepped back, Bree strode to her horse, put her foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle. As they rode away, Bree turned around. A lone figure stood at the top of the steps watching them leave—Laird Merith. Bree raised a hand in farewell then followed the others as they rode out the gates of Dun Carrick.

***

Alex tried his bonds for the umpteenth time. And for the umpteenth time he found no give in them. His wrists had been bound tightly behind his back and he could feel the rough cords cutting into his skin. His wrists were already slick with blood where he’d struggled against his bonds. On top of that, he was now tied to a tree, the rough bark digging into his skin, the damp leaf litter soaking through his plaid.

They’d stopped to rest in a clearing by the river. Several meters away in the center of the clearing Owen and his men were gathered around a fire, eating and drinking. Behind Alex the ground suddenly fell away in a high cliff with the river gurgling in a deep channel beyond.

None of the men were paying Alex any attention. They’d taken his weapons, of course, and now they were tied to Shadow’s saddle. Shadow was tied up with the other horses on the far side of the clearing. Alex shifted his weight, grimacing as pain shot through his tortured wrists.

Keeping his eyes on his captors, he stretched his fingers out until they brushed the dirt at the base of the tree. He felt around, fingertips walking across the ground, searching. He felt something sharp against the pad of his thumb—a broken stone.

Quickly, as he’d been taught by his father, he curled his fingers around the stone and maneuvered it into his hand until he was holding it between thumb and forefinger. Twisting his fingers awkwardly he began sawing at his bonds.

It wasn’t easy with such a precarious grip and he dropped the fragment a number of times and had to start again. Each time he did he looked up anxiously, expecting one of his captors to look up and see him but they were engrossed in their meal and weren’t paying him any attention. Laboriously he worked, sawing at the thick rope in tiny little increments. Gradually the rope began to fray. As each strand snapped his bonds got looser and looser until there was only one thin strand holding his wrists together. Then, finally, this one snapped too.

In a flash he grabbed the ropes around his chest and tugged on them, loosening them enough to allow him to wriggle free. Then he was on his feet and running towards Shadow.

A shout went up and his captors leapt to their feet, drawing weapons. Alex reached Shadow and quickly untied his reins. But before he could mount, a blade came whistling through the air towards his head. Alex ducked under the swing and slapped Shadow on the rump.

“Go!” he shouted to the horse. “Run!”

Shadow let out a shrill whinny and sped off into the trees. Alex whirled to face his attackers. He ducked low to avoid a knife-thrust and then side-stepped as another man swung at him with a sword, stepping close and landing a punch in the man’s gut that doubled him over.

Alex snatched the sword out of the man’s grasp and dropped into a fighting crouch, holding the sword up defensively.

“Dinna kill him!” Owen shouted. “Lord Donald wants him alive!”

Owen’s men formed a half-circle around him, all with weapons drawn, all with the glint of violence in their eyes.

“What’s the matter?” Alex growled. “Are none of ye man enough to face me alone?”

“Ye are in no position to goad us,” Owen snapped. “Ye canna prevail here. There are six of us and one of ye. What do ye hope to achieve? Put yer sword down. I’ll not ask ye a second time.”

Alex weighed up his options. Owen and his men blocked his only exit from the clearing. Maybe he would be able to take down a few of them if he fought but he was under no illusion that he could beat all six of them. They would most likely club him unconscious and then what good would he be? He had to get to Bree and his family. He had to warn them of the danger they were riding into.

There was only one choice. He smiled grimly at Owen. “It’s been lovely spending time with ye,” he said. “We’ll have to do it again some time.”

Then he spun and ran in the opposite direction, towards the cliff. He threw himself over the edge. For a heart-stopping moment he was suspended in mid-air and then he was falling, falling, and slammed into the river, its icy water stealing his breath. He sank, his plaid wrapping awkwardly about his body.

Summoning every ounce of strength, he kicked upwards and broke the surface of the river, coughing and gasping. He caught a quick glimpse of Owen and his men looking down at him from the cliff top before the river’s current took hold and sped him downriver and out of sight. 

Swelled by the recent rains, the river was a wild, raging torrent. It was all Alex could do to keep his head above water. He smashed into rocks, had the sword torn from his grasp and his face scraped by low-hanging branches. Alex fought grimly on, refusing to let the river take him. A stout log came speeding towards him and Alex threw his arms around it, clinging on for dear life.

Eventually the river widened, the current slowing, and Alex found himself washed up on a wide shingle beach. He crawled out of the water and collapsed face-down on the bank. He was so exhausted he could barely think.

Get up! he shouted at his aching body. Get up, damn ye! Ye have to save Bree! Ye have to save yer family!

Getting his hands under him, he struggled to rise but all his strength had been taken by the river and he collapsed once more, getting a mouthful of sand in the process.

He head soft footfalls nearby. Not Owen and his men surely? How could they have found him so quickly? With a growl of defiance he flipped himself. He’d not let them take him like this, curse them. But when he looked up he realized it wasn’t Owen and his men at all. It was Shadow.

He let out a great whoop of joy. Never in his life had he been so pleased to see a beast. The horse dipped his head and sniffed at Alex’s shoulder.

“Good boy,” Alex murmured. “Good boy.” 

He put his arms around the horse’s neck and used it to steady himself as he struggled to his feet. Shadow stood patiently as Alex gripped the saddle and tried to mount. It took several attempts but Alex was finally able to crawl into the saddle, lying low on the horse’s back and gripping the cantle with both hands.

“West,” he said to Shadow. “We need to go west and quickly.”

He pulled on the reins and nudged Shadow with his heels. With a shrill whinny Shadow tossed his head, swung around and began cantering along the riverbank.

“I’m coming, Bree,” Alex muttered. “I’m coming.”

***

Bree shifted position, trying to get more comfortable. Her backside and thighs ached from so long in the saddle. They’d been riding all day. The village they were heading to lay just beyond the borders of Murray lands to the west and so they’d made their way steadily through cultivated countryside, stopping at a couple of crofts for food and to rest, until the cultivated lands had receded and they’d entered more rugged country of steep escarpments and deep valleys. The escarpments shone purple with heather under the early summer sun and thick green foliage filled the valleys.

It was beautiful but Bree found herself unable to enjoy it. She rode beside Gretchen, David and Ewan in front, the four guardsmen ranged around them in a protective circle. Every step they took brought them nearer to the village where Irene MacAskill had been found but rather than bringing relief, Bree felt dread instead.

There was no telling whether Irene would be there and even if she was, would she send Bree back to her own time? Gretchen seemed confident that the old woman would do as she was asked but Bree wasn’t so sure. She was beginning to think that this whole thing had been an accident, that there was no grand scheme involved in her being here as Gretchen seemed to think.

“Look! There!”

Up ahead, David was standing in his stirrups and pointing. They were on a hilltop that dipped steeply down into a valley. Another hilltop rose on the other side of the valley and it was to this that David was pointing. A settlement clung to the hillside, smoke rising lazily into the air.

“Kirk Higham,” David said. “We’ll be there by sundown.”

They rode along a wide track that led into the valley then snaked along its base. Ewan pulled his horse up suddenly, swinging his mount around, eyes scanning the densely packed woodland to either side of the road. The men were instantly alert.

“What is it?” Gretchen asked.

Ewan didn’t answer. He sat still, head cocked to one side as if listening. After a moment he relaxed. “Naught,” he said. “I thought I heard something. I was mistaken.”

They carried on riding but hadn’t gone more than a mile before the woods suddenly closed in on either side and the road became a narrow track barely wide enough for two horses to ride abreast. Then all of a sudden mounted figures burst out of the trees, spilling across the road in front and behind, cutting off their escape.

The Murray men drew their swords and huddled protectively around Bree and Gretchen just as a figure detached itself from the group and rode towards them. Bree’s eyes widened as she recognized the figure and her heart thudded in her chest.

“Lord Donald,” she breathed.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ewan demanded, pulling his horse around to face Lord Donald’s. “What are ye doing here and why are ye blocking our path?”

“Which question would you like me to answer first?” Lord Donald said with a sardonic smile. “As to why I’m here, well it’s a free country is it not? I pay my tithes to the king like anyone else so I am entitled to use his roads.”

“Ye were supposed to be many miles from here,” Ewan snapped. “To the north. Ye and yer men were identified as those that destroyed one of our crofts.”

“Aye, that I did. Not my intention but my lads can get a bit over zealous when they have the scent of blood in their nostrils. A clever ruse though, dinna ye reckon? Yer laird’s forces are riding north as we speak and so are nay threat to my plans.”

“What plans?” Ewan growled. “Speak plainly, man. I havenae time for yer clever tongue.”

“Is Alex with you?” Gretchen suddenly blurted.

Lord Donald’s eyes narrowed. “Why would I keep company with that traitorous wretch? He stole Lady Breanne from my keep and rode off with her. He betrayed me, broke all bonds of fellowship between us. But aye, he is why I’m here. To teach him a lesson. To teach all the arrogant Murrays a lesson.”

“Wait a minute, you mean he didn’t—” Gretchen began.

“Hush, woman,” Ewan snapped. “He is trying to goad ye.”

“I have to know,” Gretchen snapped back. She raised her chin and looked Lord Donald in the eye defiantly. “Was my son involved in a plot of yours to gather information about our clan?”

Lord Donald raised an eyebrow. “There’s a story here, I reckon. Why? What is it to ye?” When nobody answered he waved a dismissive hand. “Nay, Alex wasnae involved in any plot of mine. Ye think I’d trust him after he betrayed me?”

A host of emotions rushed through Bree at Lord Donald’s words. Confusion and relief warred inside her. Alex hadn’t been involved with Lord Donald? That meant Merith had been wrong about him. That meant the reasons for his banishment no longer applied. That meant...

That means he was lying yesterday, she thought. He was lying when he said I was just part of a plan to get him into Dun Carrick. But what else was he lying about?

She didn’t have time to ponder it right now because Lord Donald’s eyes suddenly fixed on her.

“Lady Breanne Martin. It vexes me that ye would abuse my hospitality so. Ye will come with me, now.”

“Like hell I will,” she snapped, lifting her chin and meeting Lord Donald’s gaze.

Anger flashed in his eyes. He obviously didn’t take well to being disobeyed.

“Have it yer way. Tales will be told about today. Tales of the tragedy that befell the Murray clan. The laird’s heir and half her family destroyed in one random attack by brigands. The heart will be cut from the Murray clan. I doubt they will ever be the same again.” He nodded to his men. “Take them.”

Weapons were drawn with a hiss of steel then Lord Donald’s men spurred their horses forward.

“Protect the women!” Ewan bellowed.

He, David and the guardsmen closed in, forming a tight ring around Bree and Gretchen. Fighting erupted. Cries rang out. Steel clanged on steel as the men began trading blows. Bree found herself shunted backwards, David’s horse backing into her own as he fought with a man who sported a long drooping beard. The man grinned as he hacked and slashed, seeming to enjoy it. David deflected his blows then opened up a red gash along the man’s shoulder. The man grunted in pain and yanked his horse around, out of the melee, but another of Lord Donald’s men quickly took his place.

Ewan fought ferociously in front of Gretchen, his sword moving so quickly Bree could hardly track its movements. Bree had only seen one other person fight that way: Alex. But there were too many and Ewan was gradually forced back.

“Ride!” Ewan bellowed to David. “Take Gretchen and Bree and ride for the village! We’ll hold them off.”

Ewan and the guardsmen drove their horses at their attackers, opening up enough space to allow David to wheel his horse.

“Follow me!” he yelled at Bree and Gretchen.

He kicked his horse, sending him careening through the open space that Ewan had created. Bree and Gretchen set their heels to their horses’ flanks and followed. Bree paid no heed to their path, trusting the horse to follow the one in front as they sped along the forest path. From behind came the sound of battle and Gretchen kept looking back, fear and worry etched on her face. Up ahead the road widened and the trees pulled back, giving a clear run to the village but before they reached it a second group of mounted men spilled across the road. They wore Lord Donald’s colors too—his reserves no doubt.

“Hold!” one of them bellowed. He brandished a sword.

David didn’t slow. He crashed into the band, knocking the man’s sword from his hand and then stabbing him in the gut. The man’s eyes widened and he toppled from his horse and lay still. For a second it looked as though that would be enough. The enemy line wavered and Bree dared to hope they’d make it through. But a second man took charge, bellowing orders to the others and they closed in, using their horses to block any escape. David yanked his horse up short in a shower of mud, raising his sword to block a blow coming at him from the side. A second man clubbed him across the back of the head with a spear and he slumped to the ground.

“David!” Gretchen yelled.

She kicked her horse, trying to reach him, but two of Lord Donald’s men blocked her path. She spun her horse and burst through the line, galloping towards the village. Two mounted men gave chase.

The man who’d hit David jumped from his horse and approached David warily, kicking his sword out of reach. David staggered to his knees. Blood ran from his temple and he swayed as though dizzy but he still glared up at his captors defiantly.

“How can ye believe ye’ll get away with this?” he said. “When Laird Merith discovers what ye have done she will destroy ye and Lord Donald Sinclair.”

“Is that so?” the man replied. He grinned around at his companions, enjoying the show. “Well, why dinna ye make yer complaints to him in person?”

The trees rustled and Lord Donald rode into view, several of his men with him. The sounds of battle still rang out behind, showing Ewan and the guardsmen still fought. Lord Donald must have slipped away without joining the fight. Seeing David on the ground his eyes lit up. He and his men pulled their horses to a halt and dismounted. One strode over and dragged Bree from her horse. She yelped and kicked at him but it did no good.

Lord Donald drew his sword. 

“David Murray,” he said, approaching the kneeling man. “It is time yer mother was taught her place. It is time the Murray clan was taught its place. Power in the Highlands is shifting—shifting towards me.”

“Ye are an outlaw and a brigand,” David spat. “Do ye really think ye will ever rule more than a bunch of lawless men and the few crofters too terrified of ye to know better?” He spat at Lord Donald’s feet.

“We’ll see, willnae we? It starts with yer death.” He raised his sword high over David’s head.

Bree stared in horror, feeling as though she was watching everything in slow motion. Lord Donald’s blade gleamed in the sunlight as it started to descend towards David’s neck.

Then Lord Donald’s hand seemed to explode. He bellowed in surprise and pain and his sword went thudding into the dirt. An arrow was sticking right through his hand. Another arrow slammed into the chest of one of Lord Donald’s men, then a third and a fourth. Men started shouting, looking around wildly.

Then a figure holding a bow stepped out of the trees.

It was Alex.